Snow insulates boughs.
Watercolors appear: an
Old barn, rusted plow
Tangled barbed-wire scene that repeats ad
Nauseum every winter.
Sparks snap off logs in
A fire built of white birches.
Power hums through wires
Loosely strung through trees in need
Of trimming. One finch,
Continuing its rise, squeezes into a
Hole. Our neighbors say they have
To go. But, we share
Wood with birds and dormant bees.
Doctor friend sees things in
This yard, but could be
More organic in his own. Bending bushes
Relinquish life for five months
Or so. Christmas lights
Shine through eager snow.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1995. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.